Dirty Cops by Michael Onwusoro

‘Aaaaaarrrrggghhhhhh!!!! No bullets in my gun to shoot, I even forgot my bullet proof vest, what will the police chief think?’ These thoughts seemed to drown the gun commotion going on while the robbers generously unleashed their arsenal at each police car. I hoped to the stars that the robbers would change their mind and make a quick escape than show off with 25th century weaponry and armory that was promised the army 6 months ago.

My sweaty face swung left and right to pitifully observe other police officers who were pinned down by the armed robbers’ overwhelming fire power. They kept advancing towards us as they sprayed hot metallic projectiles at every police direction. My heart was racing faster than Usain Bolt on steroids.

“Hey Sarge, I need a mag” I hollered to a junior officer clutching a 9mm pistol so I could at least perform a little bit of my duty, besides my empty gun was with me. He looked like he was about to puke any moment, furthermore an experienced doctor would easily say he was about to convulse.

“Am out!!” He yelled in a tone that can make an Isis captive, whose head is about to be chopped off, feel more privileged. My position as the deputy chief didn’t help matters. I cursed to the heavens and regretted why I was the first to the crime scene.

The entire police force of downtown Manhattan couldn’t stand the fire power of fifteen well armed money thieves. The SWAT team couldn’t do much either because they were also “tactically” pinned down. This was because air cover was eliminated besides, their bullet proof vests can’t withstand the “alien” bullets from the robber’s guns.

The bank was situated under a wide flyover bridge with little or no room for an air cover fire. A tactical bomb could not even be deployed. It was not even an option because the structure of the flyover was considered and also the robbers were so close to the police cars so nobody would want another collateral damage, not after the incident in the city of Foxtrot. Nobody would even want innocent blood on their hands. It’s simple logic, bombs are not “specific”.

Immediately, some police officers started calling their spouses to tell them they “wouldn’t make it home today”. Well, at least my adulterous wife will know where to go in any event I don’t return home for just two consecutive days. But she is a good woman. One of the really good things about her is that she can really iron clothes. Yeah, absolutely!!! My grey two-piece suit, with matching grey trousers and white shirt were glaring proofs that she can really balance uneven situations with a hot treatment.

With the robbers moving forward with their plan, this was the perfect time for me to actually lead the SWAT team and the rest of the police officers into a bloody frontal attack on the robbers and be the hero one more time. I could feel the eyes of about twelve police officers painfully staring at my partially relaxed face. If they had known that the robbers just paid 75 million dollars into my account for police Information, I would have been worse off. This was because the bank alert just came into my phone and I was busy scrutinizing the message, in the midst of explosions and machine gun rattle, to be sure they didn’t cheat me.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t cheated. I must say that I was impressed – Those were some honest armed robbers. My junior partners also got a share because they were doing the dirtier job for me. One of them was Melo. Melo Jim is a far skinned, muscular 6ft 9in tough bastard. He can make a pugnacious Russian KGB spill his guts in 3 minutes. He does the toughest and dirtier jobs. He is always the one called upon to clean up any mess, especially ones concerning undercover agents who forgot how to actually be under a freaking cover. He speaks 6 languages fluently and can mimic anyone with a working vocal cord. CIA offered him a job but he figured he could make more money arranging “smooth” bank robberies that “couldn’t show up on the police scanners”. My eyes met his and I could see his scarred face light up. Money actually makes you feel really good even in the midst of trouble. Forget marijuana and the cousins!!

As soon as the robbers were close enough to the cars, the first police man to raise his head to shoot was shot dead by the robbers. Then there was crossfire, three more dead and some wounded. That’s how close they had gotten because I had told them to suppress the police officers with superior fire Power, that will even give the swat team and special forces a hard time going with their own plan.

You could audibly hear and even feel different heartbeats. The dead policeman with the almost severed head lying in a mixed pool of his own blood, brain fluid and the blood of three other dead policemen was a clear “living” proof that this was no time for poorly planned heroics.

I couldn’t watch anymore. My eyes were heavily laden with blood and gore. It was toxic to my conscience. I lazily laid back against my posh (as at 30 minutes ago), bullets ridden, black Mercedes Benz and drifted away, briefly, in my thoughts thinking about the money that had just hit my bank account signifying how safe I felt knowing, at least to the robbers, I was untouchable. The damage done to the car was supposed to be a prop to cover up my tracks and they did it so beautifully if not excessively. Heck, who cares? 75 Milly can get me one of them rare supercars. Now I and Casper are really going to scream “Momma I made it” that is if she doesn’t stare the actual money source out of my mouth. Four police men were already shot dead and a lot of police officers were crawling towards my direction because most of the fire power (right after my car was made the honorary scape goat) was not concentrated on my direction.

As the fifth police officer, who was attempting a foolish, poorly planned, Jason Statham Sideways Dive “shot”, was shot dead, which was against my agreement with the robbers, I heard a vehicle screech to a stop and immediately all the robbers were in an armored personnel carrier and were speeding towards the Las Vegas desert.I heaved a heavy sigh of relief and I, just as soon as I did that, pretended to briefly mourn the fallen officers. “You are even more fallen than the devil himself”. Immediately that thought hit me, I calmly stood up to escape the impending mental doom. As if that was not enough, I saw my junior officer talking to the captain of the SWAT team and a couple of other swat officers and immediately they looked in my direction. I never really trusted Ronnie. Ronnie Devito is a computer specialist. He is also the head of our police station computer unit. He is the type that can move your car from your house to his while you were busy “keeping up with the Kardashians” with a cup of coffee in yours. He can make anything disappear using only a laptop and a peppermint chewing gum. He was formerly employed by NASA to develop an unmanned spaceship designed to land in Neptune and he suddenly decided, probably after a realization, that the money NASA pays was chicken change. The money was just “one small step for him” considering the “giant leap for him and his generations” he could cart away with by helping the descendants of “robbing hood’s” wicked uncle to forcefully achieve their financial freedom. Well I guess he has a ‘medical’ problem of never ‘standing’ with or on one thing. I really wanted to run away because going on an everlasting travel to Colombia or Cuba was better than facing 50 years imprisonment. I had the money so I had to make a quick escape from the robbery scene and get myself on a plane as soon as possible. Just immediately, the police radio speakers came on and it said in very coarse angry tone; ‘DO NOT ALLOW CHIEF SERGEANT DAVIS TO LEAVE THIS VICINITY’

After a 3 – month legal battle, the Judge gave me just enough years to witness another evolution and partake in the next Big Bang. This sentence came with really soft labor especially considering the unavoidable fact that I had to sweep an entire prison yard using a broom with really short broom stick. I wonder why the Judge targeted my waist. Well I learnt the first lesson for laughing at an old woman cleaning the sidewalks. Okay!!! You don’t want to be in a prison filled with the people, both guilty and innocent, that you put there yourself. A skill set of almost every type of martial art known to man came in “handy” and, also importantly, leggy too.

Two weeks later, I was put in a solitary cell after the toughest prisoner was led to Mr. Shane, the Chief warden, crying and complaining of three missing tooth and a bloodied left eye which was, before our little disagreement, better than the right one. All I did was preach love to him and he still chose hate. Well, after three days of heavy karate kicks to the head and subsequently, a massive prison riot, love was inevitably blinded. I couldn’t forget those tears, I guess Zlatan finally had a “piece” of me. The rich, especially in large biceps, do cry. That same day, I made a number of phone calls to the man in blue jean trouser, white shirt and a pony tail with seemed to kiss the base of his neck, whom I met at an uncompleted opera house a month before the bank robbery, after which I started packing up my stuff to leave. As a matter of fact, I gave the warden the exact date I planned to leave just before he shut my prison gates much to his anger and discomfort. Yeah, they were gates not doors because they are really huge. Well, everyone is afraid of me now. Being in the force makes you tough, but being in my distinguished and clandestine line of ‘work’ has a way of getting the concentrated worst out of you. Guess am competing with the devil on who’s the “baddest”.Nobody has ever escaped or has been released from Osama Bin Laden memorial prison, Chestnut, Manhattan, before the stipulated date given by the Judge. This was the 40 year legacy of the prison and a 25 year legacy Mr. Shane has upheld.

2nd of December came slowly but it finally came and a long line of black painted, bullet proof SUV’s arrived at the prison and parked in front of the prison gates. A greenish-brown, army issued, Apache helicopter floated above the prison yard. This was around 5am in the morning. There was little visibility and the sun hasn’t Kissed anything yet. I woke up from my metallic bed to hear the footsteps of a number of wardens running towards my prison gates in response to the orders of Mr. Shane. I could also hear Mr. Shane and a voice I could recognize from the prison phone calls yelling at each other on the long hallway leading to my prison cell. After a long drawn-out argument, they decided to place a call to the Judge whose children were, unknown to the Mr. Shane and the rest of the prison staff, strapped to a bomb and placed somewhere of the middle of the vast Las Vegas desert. The order for my release was not taken seriously by Mr. Shane. A long distance call immediately came in from the governor who was on medical leave in London, calling for my release. The call also carried retirement orders and subsequent imprisonment for Mr. Shane if I wasn’t released today. You can guess the rest for yourself. The pancakes and burgers on the Helicopter were really amazing. Christmas is looking like a fun time I wasn’t going to miss, or you can say, escape from.

By the way, two years later, I am writing from a beach in Cuba. The owner of the robbery gang has really deep pockets.At least I learnt to trust no one, This job is not for the faint hearted. My next mission priority is to “work” for the Cuban military. A trusted American Intel is always heavily supported financially and otherwise, not minding the surgical procedures that might constructively deface me. All for the money is my motto, and please, who is this Fidel Castro every John, Rick and Larry has been talking………”Excuse me, who is that lady carrying a surf board?”